


accidental

by smallredboy



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, House M.D.
Genre: Alternate Universe - Good Omens Fusion, Car Accidents, M/M, References to Canon, Scene Rewrite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-12-01 21:02:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20898269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallredboy/pseuds/smallredboy
Summary: “Oh Lord, heal this bike,” House muttered.





	accidental

**Author's Note:**

> for trope bingo with the square 'AU: Fusion', and crossover bingo with the square 'lost'.
> 
> in which house is crowley, wilson is aziraphale and cuddy is anathema. unseen, but trust me, lucas _is_ newt.
> 
> enjoy!

House huffed as Wilson miracled the bike back to normal. His angel truly just couldn’t stop pleasing humans, could he, especially one that House had just happened to hit with the Corvette. It wasn’t his fault, okay? That woman had made her way through the road they were in. 

“I’m certain my bike never had a pump,” the woman said as they were there, in the road, looking quite lost.

A flash of guilt obscured Wilson’s face. He stayed quiet.

“I think I might’ve hurt my head.”

“Perhaps,” House interrupted, “D’you know the way to Millville, by any chance?” 

The woman rubbed her head a little. She had loose curls that went down a little past her shoulders, her dark eyes glimmering in the dark of the night. She had a book pressed against her side, like her life depended on it. 

“Oh, it’s just a few miles south, I believe,” she said, tilting her head. “It didn’t have lights before.”

Wilson decided to ignore the question blatantly, biting his lip as he settled back into his seat, riding shotgun. House looked annoyed, brows furrowed as he glanced at him.

“Where do you live, ma’am?” Wilson asked cautiously.

“I have a bread knife, you know” the woman informed him, glaring more at House than him, looking through the pockets of her pants. “Somewhere.”

House seemed scandalized for a few seconds before he shrugged. “That’s alright with me. Whatever makes you feel safe.” He switched on the lights to the Corvette and made his way down the path, drumming his fingers along the steering wheel. 

“Is there a hospital around here?” Wilson asked suddenly. “Run by nuns? By any chance?”

The woman made a noise. “I don’t think so. There’s a ridiculously huge manor for matters of Millville, but that’s about all of interest in the town, I believe.”

“Tch.” His legs hurt like Hell. House wanted to blame the Almighty for that. “Divine planning.”

The woman turned around to look at her bike. “I’m positive it didn’t have gears beforehand, either.” She kept rubbing at her head, like a concussion could explain all that had changed.

He couldn’t help but roll his eyes and lean towards Wilson, who, again, looked quite guilty. “Oh Lord, heal this bike,” House muttered

“I got carried away,” Wilson said, sounding apologetic.

Once they got to Millville, the woman knocked at the Corvette a little. “You can drop me off here.”

“Of course, miss,” Wilson said, the door opening by itself. He got off the car as well, ignoring House’s chagrin, as he bowed a little, like she was someone of importance— House realized they had not even asked for the woman’s name. Not that it mattered, anyhow. What mattered was the nuns, and the missing hospital, and that so called manor.

The woman (who, unbeknownst to them, was named Lisa Cuddy) grabbed her things hastily and got out of the car as well, looking at her bike, which still had a pump, gears and lights. All things it did not have before. She pulled a face as she grabbed it and pulled it over to a better spot.

“So glad to have been of assistance,” Wilson told her, beaming.

“Thank you,” she said, tilting her head as she looked at them.

House clicked his tongue as he reached over by his seat, his door open as he grabbed Wilson by the back of his shirt. “Can we move on?” he hissed. He looked up at Cuddy. “Good night, miss. Get _ in, _ angel.”

Cuddy looked at them, perplexed, as the man got back into the Corvette. Well, her threats regarding the bread knife seemed useless after that little demonstration— she had been perfectly safe after all.


End file.
